


leave a light on

by nymeriadirewolff (bbl8te)



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Arya Stark Returns, Complete, F/M, Fix-It, Future Fic, Gendrya - Freeform, One Shot, Post Season 8, Reunion Fic, Season 8, Smut, gendrya smut, to claim her sad little baratheon in his big ol castle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:07:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22903705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bbl8te/pseuds/nymeriadirewolff
Summary: She comes to him in a dream.She crawls over him, nimble as a cat and just as quiet. She whispers his name and runs a hand across his chest, soothing him awake. He vaguely registers the sounds of rain battering the sides of the castle. It’s a sound that he surprisingly grew accustomed to rather quickly. Nights in Flea Bottom had been hot and miserable, and he’d almost always gone to bed hungry. Here, there was enough to eat, the soft torrent of rain, and a cool breeze to soothe his tired body.And now, her.
Relationships: Arya Stark/Gendry Waters
Comments: 29
Kudos: 263





	leave a light on

She continues rubbing his chest, but he fights waking. He wants this dream to last a little longer. She presses a kiss to his cheek, his throat, the hollow of his collarbone. Her bare legs slide against his under the sheets. Her cold little toes curl under his legs, seeking warmth. For someone so used to the winter, her toes were always ice cold. 

He has a vivid memory of sleeping beside her when they were part of Yoren’s recruits headed for the Wall. Their group had been littered with criminals and rapers and he’d often worried about them setting their sights upon his friend. Though she’d been masquerading as Arry then, the risk was still high. She was little, with big gray eyes and a stubborn little mouth. Gendry had known enough of the scum of Flea Bottom to know that boy or girl meant little difference to them. 

Yoren couldn’t do much publicly at the risk of showing favoritism, so Gendry had taken it upon himself to protect her at night. He instructed her to curl up behind him at all times, either between himself and a wall, or Hot Pie and Lommy. For someone who liked to argue so much, she’d always quietly accepted their sleeping arrangement. Gendry assumed that even Arya, independent as she was, had enough sense to know that she wasn’t safe here. It had gratified him to know that she trusted him this much.

They’d almost always shared a musty old blanket, when available. She’d take her shoes off to dry by the fire. Then, in her sleep, her small feet would find the warmth of his legs and curl into the fabric of his trousers.

This was different. They weren’t children anymore, struggling to survive. 

Arya was a woman, fully and beautifully. Even more importantly, she was unquestionably the strongest and most skilled fighter he’d ever known. He didn’t need to take care of her, truly, the rational part of his brain understood that. But there was still that primal part of him that needed to take care of, and it was something that overpowered all logic left in him. 

A surge of protectiveness flooded his system with renewed vigor. He wrapped his arms around her and crushed her to his chest.

“Gendry,” Arya grunted, struggling out of his grip. He grumbled his disapproval and she laughed. 

His hands found her thighs and he rubbed them leisurely. They were supple, and unbearably soft. He remembered their frantic night before the battle against the white walkers, how little time he’d had to fully explore every inch of skin. She was smooth in some places, calloused and scarred in others. It was a beautiful juxtaposition that spoke so strongly of the warrior’s spirit that lived under the disguise of a woman. 

Gendry couldn’t help himself but grope every inch of skin available. Arya writhed under his touch, especially as his hands moved to cup her rear. He pulled her down forcefully against his pelvis. 

“At least some of you is awake,” she said. She slid just so, until his erection was pressed snugly against her folds. In his half-consciousness, he realized that she was completely naked. The thought stirred him and he ground her slim hips harder against himself. He could feel the wetness of her already coating his cock.

He opened his eyes.

“Hello,” she said to him. Her eyes danced around his face, taking in everything that was familiar and everything that was different. He assessed her just the same. Her hair was longer and it tickled against his chest until she tucked it behind her ear. It was a feminine little movement that he’d never seen before. He wished he’d had a fire going so he could take a closer look at her features. All he could make out were clear, round eyes and a flash of white teeth.

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Don’t tell me you’ve lost your tongue?”

He put a hand behind her head and dragged her down roughly. He wound his fingers into her hair and kissed her sloppily, tasting her until she drew back forcefully for air.

“There it is,” she whispered. 

“How did you-“ he began, then sighed. “Nevermind.”

She smiled coyly at him. “You need better guards.”

“There isn’t a guard alive who could keep you out. Why didn’t you announce yourself? I could’ve had someone feed you, draw you a bath, give you…clothes.”

She cocked her head at him. She drew back and let the sheets fall away from both of them. The dim glow of moonlight from the cracks in his window illuminated every glorious curve of her. “Does this not please you, my lord?”

“Don’t call me that,” he told her, running a hand up her abdomen to caress her breasts. 

She laughed and it was music to his ears.

“I could have brought you anything,” he continued. “Ale. Wine.” He slipped his hand back down her body to cup her intimately. He slipped his fingers inside of her and the wetness made him groan.

“I’m alright,” she replied with a grin. She lifted herself slightly and positioned his cock at her entrance. “I have all I need right here.” 

Even in his lust-fueled haze, he couldn’t stop thinking about feeding her. “There’s bread, baked fresh every day. Potatoes, beans, chicken.” She inched him inside of her, slowly, slowly, and she gasped at the intrusion. 

“Stop talking about food,” she ordered him, still trying to work himself inside of her.

“You’re tight,” he hissed, his heart beating furiously. He felt dizzy with how much he needed her. 

“It’s been a while.”

“Not since…?”

“No.”

The confession set him on fire. In one swift motion he gathered her in his arms and flipped her over onto her back. He forced her legs wide open and within seconds had his mouth on her sex.

“Gendry-“

He quieted her with a tongue on her clit, stroking her until she lost all words. She whimpered, begged, then grabbed a fistful of his hair and ordered him not to stop. He dug his fingers into her thighs as she fell apart, crying out in a way he’d never heard before. Gendry hoped his fingers had left bruises on her thighs, something real and tangible for her to remember long after he was done. He crawled back up her body and let her taste herself on his tongue. 

He had so many questions for her. Where had she gone, how far had she traveled? Where did she sleep, what did she eat, was she alone, was she hurt? Why had she come back to him? 

Was she there to stay?

She read his mind and smiled so brilliantly he thought he’d die from the sheer love of it. “I’ll tell you everything,” she said breathily, “I promise. Beginning to end.” Then she wriggled beneath him, positioning herself closer to his cock. “But not now,”

“Not now,” he agreed, pressing himself at her entrance.

“Wait,” she said suddenly. “You’re not… spoken for?”

“Spoken for?” He chuckled. “No, no one has asked to court me, Arya.”

“You haven’t married? Haven’t even thought about it?”

He shook his head. “Too much too learn. I’ve kept busy enough just learning how to write,” he said earnestly. What he didn’t say is that he hadn’t been able to forget about her, the only woman he’d ever loved and how stupidly he’d scared her away

The maester of Storms End had tried on various occasions to suggest potential matches for him. Gods knew Gendry tried to talk to other women, even in passing, but the loss of Arya had still been too raw to deal with. Even on the days when the pain wasn’t so overbearing, he found himself unable to mingle freely with other highborn women. After all, the only topics Gendry could offer any conversation on were smithing, the outdoors, and fighting. They were hardly the sort of thing to charm a normal woman. 

His maester assured him that these things didn’t always decide compatibility in a marriage, but those words had only left a sour taste in his mouth. Gendry knew compatibility more intimately than he would have liked. He knew chemistry, attraction, friendship, love… The thought of settling for anything less had made him feel hollowed out to the core. 

“You’re writing?” Arya asked, innocently curious despite the fact that his cock was pressed flush against her now.

“Not very well,” he admitted. He circled a thumb around her nipple until it hardened. She wriggled, momentarily distracted from her question.

“I was never good at it. I didn’t have the patience.” She smiled at him again. Beautiful. He kissed her as a reward. “Speaking of patience,” she said softly and took hold of his cock in her small hand.

“No more questions?” he said huskily. He wrenched her hand way and teased them both by dragging his tip along her entrance.

“Gendry,” groaned frustratedly. He thought he’d never hear her say his name again. He rewarded her by slipping in a few inches.

“I missed you,” he blurted out. “I missed everything about you. Not just this... Everything.”

Her grey eyes shone with some unshed emotion. But before she had the chance to speak again, her small fingers were digging into his hips as he slid even deeper inside her. He pulled out, agonizingly slow, then repeated the motion. He wasn’t even hallway inside her, but he knew if he didn’t restrain himself he’d lose himself right then and there. 

She was watching him, eyes wild with anticipation. “Are you teasing me?” she demanded abruptly.

He laughed. “I wanted to take my time. You’re making that very difficult.” 

She widened her legs. “Hurry up,” she demanded.

“Is that a command-“

“Don’t.”

He gradually inched his way inside her and he felt her body yield to him completely. The next few moments were sheer madness as he pushed and pulled and Arya’s small frame took everything he was willing to give. The tightness was unbearable and she was slick within minutes, coating his cock and making him unable to think of anything outside of this moment.

Gendry wanted to make it last but Gods help him, he was a man lost to desire. He put a punishing grip on her waist as he pounded her body into the bed, but if he was hurting Arya she made no complaints. Rather, she seemed incensed by his loss of restraint. She arched against him and cried out as he fucked her with everything he had. 

Spurred onwards, he grabbed her legs and folded them upwards against her chest. Her legs were up high, resting on his shoulders will his weight pressed down on her. He should have been more careful, more worried about crushing her, but he was blinded by his need to get as deep inside of her as he could.

This angle was deeper and more intimate than anything they’d had the chance to try before and he saw the effect it had on Arya. She wasn’t used to being utterly vulnerable and she fidgeted in this new position, but it only drove Gendry wilder. He fucked her even deeper, and with all of his weight pressed down on her body she was helpless to escape.

“I-“ she started, then gasped, and forgot her words. He watched as her face twisted, brows furrowed, sound ceased, and her body clamped down around him. 

He felt as though he was being swallowed by her. As though she was finally laying claim to something she had already branded so long ago.

The thundering rain soothes him down from his climax, as does Arya’s wandering hands on his back.

“I have so much to tell you,” he rasps, finally working the words from his throat. He pulls away to look into her face, to find some proof of her promise to stay.

“So do I.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow. I promise. I...haven’t slept in a long time.”

He sees the truth of it in the darkness under her eyes, the fluttering of her eyelids. And he makes himself believe those words. Even so, when he falls asleep, it’s with her slender form tucked in the vicelike grip of his arms.

\-------

A rare, brilliant sun breaks across the stormlands the following morning. Gendry wakes to its fierce rays spearing into the cracks of his east-facing window. It's been nothing but rain and wind for long weeks at a time, and the break in bad weather feels both comforting and ominous.

For a wild moment, he doesn’t believe last night to be true. It seemed too impossible, too perfect, too much like everything he’s ever wanted. His arms are achingly empty, and his grief feels too large for him to carry.

Then, the sound of a soft snore rouses him.

He turns to find Arya Stark splayed wildly about his bed, in such a deep slumber that he doesn’t think a stampede of horses would wake her. He pushes her hair away from her face and presses a kiss against her throat.

A single, lingering word crosses his mind.

_Finally._


End file.
